"Gah, I hate that word," Jayden growls, shaking her head.
I shrug. "It is what it is, Jayden; no need to sugarcoat it." I look up at her, my jaw clenched. "I'm a w***e. A prostitute. I sleep with men and get paid for it," I whisper. Finally voicing the truth of what I am, what I'm destined for hurts, but not as bad as it should. I know I should try again at finding a job. But I know I won't, I can't. Jayden and I are on the run, and my resources are limited. Screwing men for money puts food on the table and keeps us off the radar.
"I prefer 'escort'," Jayden huffs, leaning back on my bed.
"Some woman told me if I was going to work the streets, I needed protection. She told me I should go to a motel and ask for a guy name Mick," I inform her, fidgeting with the money on the bed. If Jayd
